The Boy and the Deer
by Aeon Hawk
Summary: 'Today, I wanna be like Da.' Fjori's father was a huntsman, or a poacher according to the law. He wanted to be like him, for just one day, and go hunting to the forest. But, a turn of events cost the young boy dearly...


**The Boy and the Deer**

_I should know my time and place, I'm Tuesday's child without the grace  
Bring your canary and bring you flame, there's a rich seam of windy in my coal mine._

_We're just blow ins on the storm of time, we're just stopping for a mile._

_Bucket of water to seperate, those horny dogs of church and state  
God of ego and God of lies, pushed us to the corner of our own lives._

_We're just blow ins on the storm of time, we're just stopping for a mile._

Blow ins - Bell X1

Today, Fjori wanted to be like Da.

Lying stiff beneath the cold covers, he waited and listened to his sister's soft snores. He stayed still and made sure she was asleep before climbing out of bed. His bare feet touched the dried reeds scattered across the floor and he crept towards the door, careful not to disturb the rustling leaves. He pushed it open to the point before it began creaking and slipped through the small gap.

Fjori stopped, catching the loud, deep snores of Da and the gentle ones of Mama in their room, and proceeded to the centre of the floor. With ease, he found the loose floorboard and lifted it out, placing it gently beside him. In the hole Da dug years ago, was a long bow made from oak, a shorter bow for Fjori and a few dozen arrows still bearing dried blood from previous game.

Making no sound, Fjori reached in and pulled out his bow and a dozen arrows. He slid the board into its original position and continued outside just as the birds woke and began their morning songs.

The cold, morning air grasped the boy with its chilling talons. His village was still asleep, save the workers rousing and heading to the mines. The small settlement was founded generations ago when the bandits were drove out and the mine was returned to the people. Surrounding the stonghold, was the great Pine Forest of Falkreath.

_Today, I wanna be like Da._

He gazed excitingly at the trees, imagining returning home with the fattest stag, one that would feed his family for weeks. He saw his father ruffle his hair, his mother hug tightly for returning such a wonderful gift, and his sister smiling and calling him, 'the most intelligent brother'...rather than the most idiotic. Fjori grinned to himself, gripped his bow and arrows firmly in his hands, and ran eagerly to the woods.

* * *

The trees loomed over him, tall and ancient. His bright, blue eyes drifted down towards the path...the long, dreary path that seemed to become even further and further the more he stared at it.

With a gulp and a tremble, he was filled with purpose and pride, took one step and crossed the treeline's border. A dull, thin mist had risen over the undergrowth, and above the canopy was a dim, grey sky.

The insects creaked and the birds continued to chirp as Fjori wandered further into the belly of the bark. His feet sank deep into the mud and made a sucking sound when he pulled them out. The hairs on his limbs stood up as the cold plunged its talons further through his pale skin. Immediately, Fjori regretted not bringing along a cloak or his shoes. He shivered and shook uncontrollably.

_Today, I wanna be like Da._

He was determined to go on. His family needed the food, ever since the Jarl banned all but himself to hunt the deer of the land. Da was a huntsman, he used to teach Fjori the basics of archery, traking and trap-making. But, when the law was passed...all of that changed.

Since Dengeir stepped down as Jarl and his nephew, Siddgeir, took his place and exploited his title with luxery that his people could only dream of. Da was classed as a poacher, and he rarely hunted in fear of a fine or imprisonment. They had to buy their meat now and they barely had the septims to survive after paying the harsh taxes.

Fjori sprinted down the trail, kicking the odd stone as he went, until he reached a crossroad. He had been this way before, thousands of times with Da. Straight ahead was the road to the next village, a four hours walk. On the right led the way to the clearing where the children of his village played. To the left was to the river. Da never liked that way; he only preferred the other two routes. Fjori wanted to be like Da today...but his curiosity wanted him to take the left path. So, he did.

* * *

It felt like hours until he reached the stream. The skin on his hands and feet was bruised, cut and red from the cold. This path was rarely used; the undergrowth was thicker here. The trees' branches twisted overhead and their roots winded below.

Fjori took his time, dodging the trees' limbs as they waved with the wind, and stepping over the roots, occansionally tripping.

Although the cold was harsh, once he heard the sound of trickling water he sprinted forward. Jumping over roots and dodging hovering branches, he reached the stream, its calm water beginning to glisten as small rays of the sun shined through the dense clouds.

He forgot about the chill and enjoyed the freshing taste of water. He sat at the bank, his head raised to the warmth of the sun and slowly, his body absorbed the heat. Fjori spent many minutes by that stream, resting for the great hunt that was about to come.

Suddenly, his caught the strain of a creature in pain. Its screeching cries of help called out the woods. Nothing heard it, nothing except Fjori.

He stood, grabbing his bow and arrows, and found his way to it. A doe - a beautiful, young doe - was caught in a bear-trap, its leg was almost snapped in half and blood streamed down its tawny fur to the ground. Fjori watched it for a while, deciding what to do. Should he end its misery and take it home with him as his prize? Or should he free it from the trap's iron jaws? He'd more questions than answers.

She saw the boy approach her, she felt his hand slide along her back and she smelled his scent - human, but rusty and damp like her forest. She allowed him to touch her leg and nuzzled his neck as he tried to pull the jaws apart.

"Don't move," he said to her in a soothing tone. "I'll find something to..." He trailed off and strolled away, looking for a large, fallen stick. Her black eyes followed him as he kneeled beside her, rubbing her leg.

"I'm sorry if this hurts."

With the branch he found, he forced it between the small space her leg made inside the trap. Once he got it in tightly, he pushed it down, putting pressure on one side to edge it open. She nuzzled him again and pranced from the device.

Fjori yelled as his prize limped away from him. He snatched up his bow and arrows, and sprinted after her. The doe led him through the trees, away from the path.

Thorns and twigs scratched at his arms and feet, ripping his already cut skin and those above caught his scalp. Within time, blood was crawling through his blond hair and into his eyes.

The deer was slow, limping as much as she was fleeing. Fjori was quick and ran along side her for a short while. In those few seconds, a feeling of bliss shrouded the boy and the deer, a spirtitual connection linking them.

_Today, I wanna be like Da._

Looking at her, Fjori took out an arrow, notched it on the bow and pulled the string back.

"I'm sorry."

A thang echoed round the woods and the arrow struck her shoulder. She wailed, stumbling and falling down into the ditch to her right. She rolled twice, three times - and on the fourth, she snapped her neck and flopped to the end of the slope.

Fjori stared in horror and his stomach turned. Out of distraction, he lost his footing and tumbled down the steep hill. His bow and arrows slipped from his grip as he placed his hands out to stop himself.

It seemed a long time ago when he first set out to hunt some game earlier that day. The clouds parted and the sun shined its heavenly light. The birds sang even louder as though they welcomed its warm embrace. Their songs and tweets woke him from his dreamless slumber. His eyes reflected off the blue sky, his limbs were stiff and sore, and there was a dull pain in his leg.

He glimpsed to where the source was and looked away immediately. His breathing quickened and gazed at it again. One of the arrows stuck up out of his thigh. Blood oozed from it, crimson and vile. At first, Fjori thought it was his mind paying tricks on him, but as he sat up, the pain became unbearable.

He threw his head back and let out a howl of agony. The warmth of his blood seeped through his trousers, and dripped onto the ground. Fjori grabbed the head of the arrow and held his leg where the stick was deepest. With a deep breath, he broke off the head and screamed at the top of voice. His heel banged repeatily against the ground to distract himself from the pain. He turned his head and brought up vile and remains from his supper the night before.

_Today, I wanna be like Da._

He instantly remembered the doe. He killed such a beautiful creature...? A creature who did nothing to him. He freed it from the bear-trap and then...ended her life? Not even Da would do something so evil - so merciless.

Today, Fjori didn't want to be like Da. He lay back down, staring up at the sky and wept for the deer.

* * *

When he woke for the second time, he was in a familiar place. The smell of dried reeds lingered in the air and the blankets covering him were stiff and hard. Fjori was home.

Faces appeared and disappeared as he lay in his bed, sick with a fever. His mother was mostly there yet once, Da came only for a moment or so. At night, he dreamed of running through the forest with the doe in the twilight.

With each passing day, his fever faded away, leaving a feeble, tired boy. Since his little adventure, Fjori became quieter and sadder, his blue eyes were dull and drawn, and his face lost its youthfulness.

His family feared for - not only for his health, but for his safety. Word spread of a boy who tracked and killed a deer in the western part of the hold and within weeks, the gossip reached the Jarl's ears. Siddgeir was furious and ordered an execution for the young child.

Da begged for mercy, he cried at the feet of the Jarl and still was denied. Two months after Fjori setted out early in the morning to the forest, he was taken from his home and Da put up a fight to keep him there. He wanted to flee Falkreath, flee the troubles and misery of the place, but his son was too weak.

Fjori was taken to the capitol of Falkreath in a wooden cart, where gallows were newly built and a large crowd from all over gathered there to see him die. Two men, tall, bulky and cladded in the purple, Falkreath guard's armour, hauled him up onto the wooden stand.

"Sorry," one of them said. Fjori beleived him - did he not say the same thing to the doe before he shot the arrow into her shoulder?

_Today, I wanna be like Da._

He stepped onto one of the trap doors and a rope nook was tugged and fastened around his neck. The priest of Arkay stood before him, saying the last prayers he would ever hear again and in the Altmer's eyes, there was regret, anger and greif.

The people, Nords, Imperials and Mer alike, yelled and shouted for mercy and justice. The Jarl was too stupid, too young and too arrogant to listen to them. In his eyes, the boy broke the law and _deserved_ to die.

Fjori looked to the woods, seeing the trees wave with the blowing wind and birds flutter out of the canopy. His eyes wondered down to where he crossed into the treeline, a time that seemed a whole life ago. There, he saw her. The doe, in her fine, glorious and majestic stance, waiting for him.

One of the guards pulled the handle that opened the trap-door and Fjori fell. He didn't struggle; he died immediately when his neck broke over the massive force - just like the doe.

For days afterwards, his mother never truly moved on from the death of her son. She spent hours stuck in her house, a lifeless look in her eyes. Then, out of sorrow and anger, her husband ordered her out into the forest. She walked to the stream where Fjori sat and rested.

When the sun shone its brighest rays of light, she heard the distant sound of a child's laughter and far away, she swore she saw a blond-haired boy and a young doe running through the trees.

* * *

**Hello! Just a short story I wrote a while back and rewrite it into an Elder Scrolls version. Yes, it's very sad and I never said it had a happy ending. The lyrics up top are from one of my favourite bands, Bell X1, and seemed rather suitable for the story.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Mise le meas**

**-Aeon**


End file.
